Unhewn Throne 01 - The Emperor's Blades(145)

Talal had rolled to his feet and slipped into his blacks while Gwenna grumbled herself halfway out of her bunk. Laith refused to budge.

“Briefing in ten,” Valyn announced, stepping back through the door and kicking the pallet in an effort to jolt the flier into life.

“’Shael’s sweet suckling whores,” Laith cursed, rolling away from the light. “Why don’t you just beat me bloody and light my hair on fire here? Save another Wing the trouble?”

“I’m happy to light your hair on fire,” Gwenna growled. She was perched on the edge of her bunk, raking fingers through her own tangled mane. The light shirt in which she slept did nothing to conceal the curves of her breasts beneath, and Valyn looked away awkwardly. There was no mystery around the female form, not with the Kettral. He’d been eating, sleeping, swimming, and shitting next to his peers for eight years. Better get used to it, Fane used to say. You’re not going to be much use in a fight if you’re ogling the ass of the soldier next to you. Valyn was used to it, but he’d been sharing a barracks with men ever since he arrived on the Islands, and there was something a little distracting about walking into the bunkroom to find Gwenna or Annick bare-assed or halfway into her blacks. He shut his eyes and put a hand to his forehead, hoping Gwenna wouldn’t notice. Staring at her breasts wasn’t going to help his Wing any, and besides, it felt like a betrayal of Ha Lin.

Idiot, he cursed himself. You had nothing to speak of with Lin, and Gwenna would just as soon gut you as kiss you. It was true, all of it, but he felt guilty just the same.

Gwenna was still harassing Laith. “Maybe our royal leader would like me to rig your bed tonight. I’m sure I could arrange a little something to wake you up in the morning.”

“You are an evil bitch,” Laith groaned, rolling over onto his back. “Why couldn’t Rallen have assigned Gent to this Wing?”

“Because Gent is about as capable as a whore with the pox. At least if I blow you up, you’ll know I meant to do it.”

“What?” the flier shot back. “Like the other day?”

“You weren’t supposed to be on the bridge, you idiot.”

“None of this is helping,” Talal said quietly. He sat on his own bunk, lacing up his boots.

“Helping what?” Laith demanded. “It’s certainly helping to ruin my sleep.”

“Good,” Valyn interjected, before the argument could go any further. “We’ve got a lot to work through today, and not much time to do it.” Technically, this was information for the briefing, but they hadn’t been doing anything else by the book. Why start now? he thought to himself.

“What?” Annick asked. She had set aside her bow and was looking over the fletching of her arrows. She didn’t bother to look up at Valyn when he turned.

“Barrel drops,” he replied.

“Oh, for ’Shael’s sake,” Gwenna groaned. “Again?”

“Well, well,” Laith said, rising for the first time, picking his teeth absently with a finger. “I might go an entire day without a bruise after all.”

“Speak for yourself,” Gwenna said. “It’s not so easy when you’re the one dropping instead of the one flying.”

“The other Wings quit doing barrel drops a week ago,” Annick pointed out flatly.

“Well,” Valyn responded with more heat than he had intended, “we haven’t.”

“Who’s in charge of the training?” Talal asked quietly.

“Not Fane,” Laith groaned from the bunk. “Not Fane again.”

“The Flea will be overseeing today’s training,” Valyn replied, trying to keep his voice level.

Silence reigned in the room as the soldiers eyed one another warily.

“Well,” Gwenna snorted finally, dropping out of her bunk and fixing Valyn with those green eyes of hers. “Today, my illustrious lord commander, would be a good day to start getting things right.”

*

At least it’s sunny, Valyn thought to himself, closing his eyes and leaning back into his leather harness. Wind tugged at his hair and clothes, threatening to rip him from his perch on Suant’ra’s talons while the back draft from the great bird’s slow, powerful wing beats buffeted him from above.

After eight years on the Islands, Valyn still marveled at the power and grace of the kettral. Without the kettral, there would be no Kettral. The creatures could cover ground faster than any horse, faster than a three-hundred-oar galley, soar over impregnable walls as though they were thin lines drawn on the dirt, land on towers, and outdistance any pursuit in a matter of minutes. If necessary, the bird herself could even fight, tearing through flesh and armor with her claws and beak as if they were cloth.